


InQuirkysition

by Samuraider



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Awkward Flirting, Disturbing Themes, Gen, Non Sequitar, Satire, This FanFic is Currently Shelved for Now, Varric Tethras' Chest Hair, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9643469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samuraider/pseuds/Samuraider
Summary: [[[ This fanfic is currently shelved for the time being. I might return to it later on. ]]]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've incorporated my own forms of communication between characters with some alterations to the traditional dialogues. Don't expect 100% accuracy to the DA:I script. My story starts after the MC closes the Breach for the first time.
> 
> This entire fanfiction is based on satire and my vivid imagination. Be prepared for the inevitable sarcasm and stupid stuff...

Jarrett Trevelyan collapsed onto the bed burying his face into the pillows. His muscles ached after the rigorous training and sparring with the soldiers, while his eyes felt like shriveled prunes from all the wind sweeping in for the past several hours. The alluring sensation of sleep began coursing through his entire consciousness leading him to the sweet blissfulness of slumber. That is until someone started pounding on the door.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan? Are you awake?”

“No,” Jarrett mumbled into the pillow.

The interrupter of sleep began rapping against the door again. Already peeved by the rude intrusion of sleep, Jarrett groaned when the person didn’t appear to end the obnoxious knocking. Attempting a less-than-stellar maneuver by sliding off the bed, Jarrett slumped onto the floor and hit the back of his head on a book - for some bizarre reason was lying on the floor of the cabin and not in the bookcase nearby.

“Ouch.”

“Inquisitor Trevelyan, I need to speak with you.”

Jarrett remained motionless on the floor staring up at the ceiling. Small particles of dust, caught by the rays of the sun filtering in through the window, drifted around him like shimmering little snowflakes. Snowflakes that cause sneezing, of course. The ceaseless ruckus at the door pulled Jarrett out of his daydreaming and back into reality.

_Maybe if I remain quiet, they’ll go away._

Nope.

After waiting impatiently, the person on the other side pushed open the door and briskly walked in. “Inquisitor Trev…” Stopping at the foot of the bed, the soldier glanced down at the sprawled out Inquisitor with a scowling face. “Are you alright, sir?”

“I’m perfectly fine. No need to concern yourself. Just enjoying my time here on the floor recollecting upon the good old days.”

The soldiers’ facial expression contorted into a mixture of bafflement and apprehension before opening his mouth to respond when another person came stomping inside.

“Where is Inquisitor Trevelyan?”

“On the floor, ma’am.”

“Dead,” Jarrett added nonchalantly.

Cassandra Pentaghast appeared next to the soldier. Still garbed in her usual armor from earlier, Cassandra depicted herself as a determined warrior with purpose. A purpose Jarrett wasn't too keen on knowing because, in all honesty, she's a bit intimidating. “Should I bother asking why you’re on the floor, Inquisitor?”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.”

Cassandra made no intention of revealing any emotions, but simply walked over to extend her hand helping Jarrett off the ground. Once his two feet were firmly planted upon the wooden floorboards, Jarrett coughed awkwardly when noticing his uninvited guest made no move to leave. Cassandra’s face still remained expressionless despite Jarrett’s ruffled strawberry blonde hair and disheveled overall appearance. He didn't feel compelled enough to swap out of his gear earlier when he stumbled into the cabin in a sleep-deprived stupor. He just wanted to sleep and enjoy beautiful sweet dreams.

“You’re needed in the war room. It seems Leliana received information on our mission and wishes to discuss it with you as soon as possible.”

“I hope it involves cake,” Jarrett half mumbled in response.

Cassandra arched an eyebrow. “Doubtful, Inquisitor.”

“Shame.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still working on this chapter.  
> Too tired right now. Will edit later.

The group was already en-route to the crossroads hoping to arrive before either the Mage or Templar reinforcements showed up. Jarrett was vaguely aware of the discussion between Cassandra, Varric, and Solas when he noticed several corpses lying on the side of the path. Skimming the faces of the fallen, he scrunched up his face in revulsion and continued walking. Only then did Jarrett realize that the other three members of the group were looking directly at him.

“What do you think, Inquisitor Trevelyan?” Cassandra asked.

“Umm…”

“Were you even paying attention?” She furrowed her eyebrows in agitation.

“Sort of. I was distracted by a… um…” His nervous tic of rubbing the back of his neck kicked in when the dark shadows began accumulating behind her eyes. He could tell her patience was unraveling quickly around him by the second. “So, what was the question again?”

Cassandra frowned, pivoted on her heels, and stomped away.

Varric glanced over to Jarrett after watching Cassandra storm off. “Don’t let her temper get the better of you. It’s probably the only emotion she has.”

“Somehow, I don’t find that comforting,” Jarrett watched as Cassandra’s image disappeared around the bend.

“You’ll get used to it.” Varric strolled off to follow Cassandra.

The moment Jarrett walked around the corner; an arrow buzzed past his left ear shattering against a rock. He stood speechless as Cassandra charged into the fray like a crazy madwoman. Raising her shield against incoming attacks, and dodging through defenses, Cassandra brought down two Templars before Jarrett realized another one was rushing towards him. “Well, this day just keeps getting better and better.”

~~~~~~~~~~

After dispatching the threat to the fleeing refugees and sending Mother Giselle off to Haven, Jarrett had to endure the tedious task of dissolving the conflict between the mages and Templars. With buildings engulfed in fire, corpses scattered about, and the unnerving feeling of being watched, the group paved their way through the turmoil. Jarrett already longed for the comfort of home when he had to wade through the river after discovering the renegade Templars destroyed the bridge.

“I hate the feeling of water squishing in my boots,” Jarrett grumbled.

“You think you’ve got it bad,” Varric retorted. Jarrett glanced back to discover the dwarf was almost floundering in the water, which rose to his chest.

“Would you like a piggyback ride, Varric?” Jarrett quipped with a slight smirk edging at the corner of his mouth.

“Sweet of you to offer,” Varric began before stepping on a loose rock and nearly plunging into the water. Cassandra managed a firm grip on Varric’s collar to prevent him from falling under and aided the struggling dwarf across the river. Varric was drenched from head to toe and seemed less than pleased by the entire adventure.

“I hope the horse master is close by,” Jarrett was already sitting on a log attempting to wring water out from his boots. Cassandra went stomping by ignoring the confused expression on Jarrett’s face. “Errr… Cassandra?”

“We don’t have time to stop,” she snapped back.

Jarrett sighed miserably, whereas Varric crumpled to the ground mumbling something about water. Solas was the only member of the party who remained placid.

When Cassandra realized no one was following her, she turned to frown at the trio. “We’re moving on. Now.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later…

 

Jarrett never desired this position of leading the Inquisition. Hell, he wasn’t even fond of possessing this damnable anchor on his left hand. Time and time again he would attempt to remember how he acquired it, but the only memory that came flooding back was waking up bound in the dark dungeon. No recollection, just the stillness and the flickering lights of torches dancing along with the shadows.

He wasn’t aware of how swiftly time was passing by until the sun started dipping behind the mountains and casting the valley into twilight. Glancing down, he observed the anchor with some curiosity. It maintained a semi-transparent green hue regardless of being day or night. At times Jarrett could feel a burning sensation sweeping across the palm of his hand whenever he used the anchor to close breaches. Not wanting to cause concern, he decided to keep it a secret from the others.

Jarrett ran his fingers across the mark several times before pulling his fingerless glove back on. He wasn’t sure about being the Herald of Andraste or some heroic figure to the people, but if it was hope they needed at times like this, he wasn’t one to complain. After all, his family was devout Andrastians who honored the tradition of aiding those less fortunate. He wasn’t in a position to disagree.

He was perched atop the rocks overlooking the frozen pond of Haven when the remaining sunlight faded away revealing the stars in the sky. Still, he remained there watching the stars above in peaceful solitude. Sleep eventually found him, and he soon drifted back to the encampment of refugees, soldiers, and travelers alike. Only a few intoxicated patrons of the local tavern was heard exaggerating stories through the opened windows when he trudged towards his temporary residence.

Pushing the cabin door open, Jarrett headed towards the comfort of his bed. Disregarding the idea of removing his boots, he sprawled face down into the bedding relishing the comfort of sleep as it eased his weary mind into slumber. The dreams he encountered throughout the night were abnormal and entangled with memories of previous events in his life. Some of them mystifying while others were unpleasant. The only thing he recalled before falling asleep was a mental note to write to his family and letting them know he was still alive.

As hours passed by, Jarrett stirred from his sleep attempting to recollect his thoughts as the drowsiness slipped away. Jarrett begrudgingly sat up at the foot of the bed while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Daylight filtered in through the window as did the sound of the encampment toiling away for the day. Sighing, Jarrett tried to smooth out the fabric of his dark green jerkin and tame the unruly strawberry blonde hair of his. He eventually surrendered his fruitless attempt of maintaining appearance expected of the newly beheld Herald of Andraste.

As he stepped out into the daylight, Jarrett blinked a few times to adjust to the sudden transition of lighting. He knew he was expected to meet up with the advisors for the daily updates, but he was famished and lacked enthusiasm because of it. Regardless, he’d probably receive a harsh lecture from Cassandra if he ignored his newly appointed obligations. Jarrett steered himself towards the Chantry making sure to slow his pace the entire way. It wasn’t like Jarrett would be traveling abroad anytime soon. He hoped not anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Val Royeaux. Why Val Royeaux?” Jarrett grumbled as his party made their way to the capital of Orlais.

“To appeal to the Chantry,” Cassandra responded.

“Couldn’t we have sent them a letter explaining that we’re not heretics instead of traveling hundreds of miles to say just that?”

“No.”

Jarrett decided against pursuing the matter any further by focusing on the surroundings. Small homes dotted the land as well as several clusters of grazing livestock. Other than that, their journey across Orlais was dull and unadventurous. At times Jarrett and Varric would strike up a conversation and exchange witty jokes, other times they’d get scowled at by Cassandra for being ‘too distracting to potential enemies of the Inquisition.’ Solas seemed lost in thought and rarely spoke unless addressed, but it didn’t hinder the friendship between him and the other companions. At times, he’d chuckle at some of Varric’s wild and vivid tales, which are embellished for storytelling purposes.

After some time had passed, Cassandra came to an abrupt halt. She shielded her eyes from the sun scanning the area before them. Without turning her attention towards the group, she pointed off into the distance. “There’s a small military force up ahead.”

  
“Friend or foe?” Varric spoke up.

“Not sure, but I’m not waiting around to find out,” Cassandra nodded towards another road looping around the military camp, “It’s best we avoid encountering them. We’ll take that path.” She maneuvered her horse down the new path quickly followed by the rest of the group. When Jarrett glanced back at the military camp, he spotted a few scouts trekking through a field of wheat. Their armor seemed odd and devoid of the usual Orlaisian flair. What the Orlaisian militia deemed colorful and extravagant, this group of soldiers’ armor consisted of darker tones and nothing else besides hints of red.

“Strange,” Jarrett muttered to himself. He couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that something was wrong about them. Casting one final glimpse of the unfamiliar military camp, Jarrett turned his attention ahead. The inkling that this won’t be the last time he’ll encounter them resided in the back of his mind for the remainder of the journey to Val Royeaux.


End file.
